


A Gift For My Master

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Non-Sexual) Collaring, Body Horror, Cult-y Dynamics, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Reading, Unhealthy Relationships, none of this is healthy or okay I am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Jon is living comfortably as an avatar of the Eye. Martin is there to help him feed.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	A Gift For My Master

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea of Martin serving Jon as some kind of eye-god popped into my head and I had to write it. Full disclosure this is awful in every way. I might write more of this AU if I ever have more ideas about it but in the meantime... enjoy this I guess?

Martin leaned against Jon’s throne. Jon’s fingers were laced into his hair, petting him gently. He purred happily, nuzzling into Jon’s hand.

He wasn’t a pet. The collar around his neck connecting him by a chain to Jon’s throne may have begged to differ, but he didn’t think it made him a pet. And he wasn’t a slave either. He could leave if he wanted. Jon could send him on a hunt, and he could never come back. He could walk out into town in his collared shirt and get a real job, an apartment with furniture that wasn’t covered in eyes, a life apart from Jon and the Eye. Jon might not even come after him.

But he didn’t _want_ to.

Martin had always loved Jon. He was always going to love Jon, he couldn’t imagine a life apart from Jon. He’d watched Jon longingly from afar as he transformed, first with his abundance of scars, and then his need for statements, and then the eyes. Martin was convinced he was hallucinating when he first saw the eyes, blinking open and then closed again in a fraction of a second, appearing when Martin glanced at Jon out of the corner of his eye and disappearing when he turned to look.

The eyes were clearly visible now. They covered Jon’s face, his neck, his hands. Martin assumed they covered the rest of his body too, but Jon had never allowed him to see anything else.

 _Allowed him._ Martin had to stop thinking of it like that. Jon was allowed to have boundaries. He wasn’t withholding something from Martin, teasing him with the uncertainty around the full extent of his transformation. He just didn’t wear revealing clothing. Martin didn’t need to know.

He was certainly owed _something_ for his service to Jon. And he was getting something. He was curled up against the man he loved, petting his hair and keeping him safe from all the other horrors out there. The Eye would protect Martin. Jon would protect Martin.

Jon didn’t sit on his throne. Sitting up on the throne made him look tiny, like he didn’t belong in it. Instead, he draped himself over the seat, his legs hanging off one armrest and his head resting on the other. The position also made it easier for him to reach his arm down and pet Martin, stroking over his hair like a villain stroking a cat.

The view of Jon from the base of the throne was beautiful. When Jon wasn’t petting him, Martin enjoyed laying on the cushion on the floor, staring up at the immense golden chair as its gem-studded eyes stared back at him. Jon stared back at him too. His original eyes rarely turned to Martin, but at any given time at least one of his several eyes pointed downwards, watching Martin intently.

It had taken Martin a while to get used to the collar, but he had gotten used to it. Jon had seemed tentative about it, but it was what the Eye demanded of him. The collar had appeared in a drawer in the archives, showing up out of nowhere just as the throne had. Jon instantly knew it was the Eye’s gift to him, and both he and Martin knew rejecting a gift from the Eye was a bad idea. He had stood in front of Martin while he put it on, reaching up and caressing Martin’s neck before wrapping the collar around it. The soft leather of the collar was not entirely uncomfortable, but Jon had spent a long time running his hand over it, asking Martin if it was too tight, if it hurt. Martin had thought about it a long time. It felt like it should hurt. It felt like it should be uncomfortable, like he should want to take it off. But he felt okay.

He’d gone to the bathroom afterwards and looked at himself in the mirror for a long time. The clasp on the collar was a weird shape, resembling an eye, because of course it did. Martin had never thought about wearing a collar before, and it definitely wasn’t the accessory he’d been missing for years, but it didn’t look out of place. He’d already begun to accept he was property of the Eye, so that aspect of the collar didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.

When he’d returned from the bathroom and seen Jon holding the thick chain leash, his heart had dropped a bit. The collar was creepy, but at least it was gentle. The chain was heavy, heavy enough to make Jon hunch over with the effort of holding it up.

“I’m sorry, Martin,” Jon had said. “You know I don’t want to do this, but I have to. It wants me to.”

Martin knew better than to resist the Eye. He bowed his head, letting Jon attach the end of the leash to his collar. The chain made a horrible crashing noise as he let it fall to the floor. Martin fell to his knees at the base of the throne. Jon took his place on the throne, tilting Martin’s head up, staring at him with all his many eyes. He kissed Martin’s forehead softly, and Martin gasped.

This was his life now. Sitting at the base of Jon’s throne in the twisted eye-covered room that had once been his office, remaining at his feet and grovelling for the slightest hint of affection from the man he loved.

Martin tried to keep seeing Jon as just that-a crush, a person he was infatuated with and was trying to impress. Given Jon’s transformation, it may have been easier to see him as a god. It almost definitely made more sense. Jon was hardly a person anymore, less human and more… something else. And the things Martin did were hardly the actions of someone trying to impress a crush. He wasn’t just trying to impress Jon, he was devoting himself to him, serving him every moment of his waking life, sleeping at his feet and revelling in the little rewarding touches offered to him by his master. His god.

And what would a twisted god be if it didn’t demand sacrifices?

Jon was so very, very hungry. Martin hated to see him hungry. His eyes sunk into his face, and every other part of his body, exhaustion and desperation covering him like a rash. Jon rarely even had to ask Martin to go out for food. Martin just got upset looking at him starving, _needing,_ and practically begged to get him food.

Jon patted his head gently, blinking all his sunken eyes.

“Would you like to go out, Martin?” Jon asked, looking down at Martin.

“Mhm,” Martin replied.

“You wouldn’t mind getting me something to eat while you’re out, would you?”

“Of course not,” Martin replied.

Jon nodded. He pressed his hand to Martin’s forehead, and Martin felt a chill down his spine. Jon never granted him full Sight, Martin figured he probably couldn’t, but some amount of mind-reading power was helpful in searching for statements.

Jon played with Martin’s hair for a while before taking off his collar. When the collar was off, he set it down at the foot of his throne and caressed the newly bare skin of Martin’s neck.

“Thank you,” Jon whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Martin replied.

He made a stop in the bathroom before heading out into the real world. His hair was a mess from all of Jon’s petting, and he desperately tried to fix it into something resembling order. He did up the top button on his shirt, wiped off his glasses, and took a deep breath. Time to go out into the world and pretend he didn’t exist to serve some kind of omniscient fear god.

His favourite spot was the coffee shop near the Institute. It seemed to attract people trying to distract themselves from whatever strange or horrific trauma they had just experienced, burning off their feelings with a hot cup of coffee. Martin supposed that by that logic bars would also be a great place to look, but he enjoyed the comfort of the coffee shop more than the noise that came from bars, and he had more of a taste for tea than for alcohol. He ordered a mug and sat down at a table in the corner, sipping it slowly and watching people enter and leave the cafe.

His prey entered after twenty minutes or so. Martin had tried not to think of them as prey at first, but that was definitely what they were. He was a hunter, they were food, and he at least preferred thinking about having prey than thinking about having victims. The man that caught his eye was dressed in an oversized jacket that covered his hands, and he was looking back and forth like he thought someone was following him. It didn’t take mind reading powers to see that something was wrong with him, but Martin could sense that he’d had a brush with a Fear. Perfect.

The man ordered a coffee and sat down at his own table in the corner opposite Martin. Martin watched him for a few minutes. He looked just as anxious as when he walked in, pulling his jacket sleeves over his hands every few moments. Eventually Martin grabbed his mug and walked over to the man’s table. He looked up at Martin, his eyes dark and sunken. It made Martin think of Jon, and he was getting anxious. Jon was hungry. Jon needed to eat.

“Hey there,” Martin said gently. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. Are you doing alright?”

The man blinked, pulling his sleeves over his hands again.

“May I sit?”

The man nodded. Martin had never encountered any resistance when he tried to talk to his prey. He figured Jon must have given him the power to influence them somehow, but he wasn’t doing it consciously.

Martin took a sip of his tea, keeping his eyes locked on the other man.

“You come here often?” he asked.

“N-no,” the man replied. “A friend recommended it to me. Said the coffee was strong here.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Martin said, smiling. “I’m more of a tea guy.”

“I can’t sleep,” the man interjected.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Martin said, reaching a hand out towards him. The man didn’t take it. Martin didn’t expect him to. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

“Trust me, I’m sure I’ve heard weirder.”

“I think I’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ah. I see.”

“God, you must think I’m crazy.”

“No, no, of course not!”

“I don’t believe in ghosts. I just… I can’t possibly think of another explanation.”

“Hm. I think I know how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I’ve had a few encounters myself.”

“Jesus. See, a few days ago I would’ve called you an idiot. But I don’t think I can. I think you’re onto something.”

“Look,” Martin said, smiling gently at the man. “I work for the Magnus Institute. This is kind of our area of expertise. If you need someone to talk to about this, I know just the person you can talk to.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think he’s free right now, if you’d like to come give your statement.”

“Oh, of course! Just… let me finish my coffee first.”

“Of course,” Martin replied, sipping his tea. The man finished his coffee faster than Martin thought possible. He stood up, and Martin stood up with him, leaving a half-full cup of cold tea on the table.

The walk to the institute always made Martin think. There was nothing compelling him to bring this man to his doom. Nothing was forcing him to lie to him, to trick him into being consumed. For Jon, it was different-the Eye was demanding things of him, threatening him with starvation and death if he didn’t comply. Martin could just leave. He could break down in front of this stranger, admit he’d been bringing in sacrifices for the eye-covered monster that used to be the love of his life. Admit he’d hurt people for his love. Except he didn’t, because thinking of Jon made his heart swell and his head spin, and he had to bring himself to focus so he didn’t trip over his own feet.

Most of the institute still looked innocuous enough. The elevator ride was smooth, the halls were clean, and everything looked normal until they came upon the entrance to the Archive. The door was inscribed with the image of an eye, an image that neither Martin nor Jon had put there. It seemed to follow them as they walked closer to it, but that could easily be written off as an optical illusion. Martin had written it off at first, but by now he was pretty sure Jon was watching him through it. Or maybe it was the Eye itself. Martin was used to it by now.

He knocked on the door, and it swung open on its own. Jon was inside, lying on his throne, his eyes softly glowing.

“Where the hell did you take me?” the man next to him whispered. He darted his head back and forth again, looking for a way to escape.

 _”It’s okay,”_ Jon said firmly. The man calmed down instantly. Martin wasn’t sure when Jon had gained that ability, but it certainly made feedings less stressful.

Martin pointed at a couch opposite Jon’s throne. The couch was covered in eyes, a disturbingly patterned fabric that Martin could’ve sworn wasn’t always like that.

“Sit down,” Jon said. The man sat down. He watched Jon with wide eyes, but he didn’t seem to be looking for an escape. He was in awe, horrified and fascinated by the thing before him. Jon turned his gaze to Martin. Martin approached the throne eagerly, and Jon gently put his collar back on. He took his place at the foot of the throne, this time facing the man on the couch.

“What are you people?” the man asked, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

“I’m the Archivist,” Jon said. “My partner here tells me you have a statement you’d like to make?”

“Y-yes,” the man replied. “I met a ghost. Er… I think it was a ghost. There was something in my house. There _is_ something in my house. It doesn’t want me to leave. It burned my hands.” He finally pulled back his coat sleeves, revealing bright red and blistered palms. Martin and Jon both looked at the injuries intently. Martin rested his chin on his hands. He noticed the man looking at him, probably because he was easier on the eyes than Jon. It almost made him feel bad for Jon, that people couldn’t stand to look at him now. That he was the only one who would stare at Jon with the love and awe he deserved.

“It’s been keeping me in my room. And today I had to get out, so I grabbed my doorknob and it burned me. And I felt like… I knew it would. I knew it didn’t want me to leave.”

“What did it look like?” Jon asked.

“It looked like… fire,” the man replied. “Like, it was the wrong colour, and it wasn’t burning anything in the room but it was so hot, I could hardly breathe it was so hot in that room and I couldn’t leave.”

Martin could hear Jon breathing heavily. He was enjoying his meal. Martin felt proud of himself.

“It _wants_ me,” the man went on. He was crying. This was Jon’s favourite part. “It wants to… burn me. To make me a part of itself. I don’t know how I know, I think… I think when I touched the door it went… into me? If that makes sense?”

Jon nodded.

“What should I do?”

“I don’t know,” Jon replied. “We can follow up on your statement, see if there’s anything about your house that might lead to something like this occurring.”

“That’s it? You can’t help me?”

“We’ll do what we can. In the meantime, maybe stay in a hotel if you can afford it.” He smiled, all his eyes squinting into a smirk.

“I never should’ve come here,” the man muttered, standing up and hurrying out the door.

“Have a nice day,” Martin called after him. As soon as the door was shut, Jon reached down to pet Martin’s hair again. Martin purred.

“You did a good job,” Jon said. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Martin said.

Jon sighed. He tapped Martin’s forehead, and Martin felt the sense of Knowing leave his head. It made him feel cold and empty. Losing the powers of the Eye was always unpleasant, but then Jon’s fingers were in his hair again, patting him gently and keeping him calm. He was safe. The Eye would still keep him safe.

“You’re a very good assistant,” Jon said.

“Can’t you just say you love me?” Martin whined. “I’d never know if you were lying.”

“Why do you love me, Martin?” Jon asked. Marten felt the gentle tug of compulsion pulling at his lips.

“Because you’re beautiful,” Martin said. Jon probably didn’t need to compel him to make him say that, but he couldn’t help but compel. That had to be it-compelling was an instinct for Jon now, the Eye wouldn’t let him simply ask a question. “You’re beautiful, Jon, I’ve thought that pretty much since I met you. And you… protecting me? Letting me share your powers sometimes? It’s so sweet.”

Jon’s eyes blinked. They weren’t in sync, they usually weren’t. It gave the impression of his flesh twisting as his eyelids opened and closed. It should have been nauseating. It was mesmerising.

“You’re really going to fall for the first Avatar you meet?”

“I was in love with you before you were an Avatar.”

“I know.”

“You say that a lot.”

Jon nodded. Martin nuzzled into his hand.

“I love you, Martin,” Jon said.

Martin smiled brightly. He didn’t know if Jon meant it. He liked being able to remain in that blissful ignorance. He’d leave the all-knowing stuff to Jon.


End file.
